Breathe
by Apocalyptic-Mess
Summary: It's been a month since Courtney left her sister to join Sam and Dean. When a friend of Courtney's calls asking for back-up, things from her past start popping up which could mean the end of the Winchesters. SEQUEL TO GONE!


Chapter 1 - Intuition

**Courtney**

"_The apocalypse is coming, freak. You've seen it, haven't you? And she's going to make sure the first thing you see is Sammy carving up your little sister."_

The six shots went off in quick succession, the recoil sending thrills through my body as I expertly took out the makeshift targets, giving a shrill war cry when I took out the last. I don't know how they manage to do it, but Sam and Dean always find the perfect spots for practicing. Today they'd decided to test my shooting and aiming skills, so we'd found a deserted campground and had set up some targets on the far side of the horse-shoe shaped clearing. To me, there was something special and so innocent about being among all the trees. I basked in the presence-less of nature. Laughing excitedly, I turned the safety of the rifle on and let it drop to my side. With a playful tilt of my head, I looked over my shoulder and winked—then turned back around to survey my kill.

"Oh look," I announced proudly to the figures behind me. "I even killed a gopher." I crouched down beside the once-alive rodent and poked it with the barrel of my gun. It lolled lifelessly to the side on bloody sand, revealing a shredded and blood soaked coat of fur and ragged flesh. I winced minutely, hoping that if I ever got shot, _that_ didn't happen. Sure, call me vain, but I seriously don't want people poking at _my_ intestines after they've just shot me.

I watched Dean's face transform from grudgingly impressed to open-mouthed dismay. "What did that gopher ever do to you?" I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd started crying (that's not true. I'd be totally surprised. And then I'd laugh). As it was, he (not-so-very-quickly) rushed over the sightless inert form of the mangled gopher and picked it up, taking it to the edge of clearing and preparing to dig its grave. Sam and I exchanged a look.

"Oh yes Dean, 'cause there's totally so many possessed rabid gophers running around the place." I retorted sarcastically, walking over to examine the targets that Dean and Sam had made for me—because they needed to test if I was _ready_. Ready my ass. They just wanted to know if I'd be able to save their asses when they realized that they were SOL.

"You never know…" Dean hedged, slowly patting the dirt over the now buried gopher. I could do nothing more than stare at him in complete disbelief. Maybe he really _was_ crazy…

That's okay though; now he'd be able to join the rest of us. The rest of us being Sam and me.

The shudder that passed through my spine when Sam leaned over my shoulder made my blood boil. I could feel the thin electrical spark that was encased in the small distance, and my flimsy black and white tank top made me feel so bare and exposed. His breath was warm on my neck and I tried not to pass out when he leaned closer to whisper in my ear. "He had a nightmare that his pet hamster came back to life when he was nine." Even without trying, Sam still sounded sexy.

Oh god. _I'm starting to turn into a bitchy girl!_

Dean's solemn expression caused me to internally smirk, completely ignoring my previous 'bitch' comment. "Poor hammy…" Dean whispered softly, mockingly wiping his hand under his eyes.

"And the hamster died how…?" I questioned to Sam, much too softly for Dean to hear—even with his Hunter-sensitive hearing (that he _wished_ he had…).

"Dean didn't feed it." Sam answered shortly, absently twirling a knife in his hand.

Rolling my eyes, I shouldered my gun and replied, "Figures."

After a short pause of silence that Dean had insisted on having for the rodent, I started drumming a random beat on my jean shorts and rolled on the balls of my feet awkwardly. "So…" I drawled, glancing between Sam and Dean impatiently. "Did I pass Hunter school? Can I graduate yet?"

Dean grunted in response, still not willing to accept my adept hunting abilities. Sam just gave me one of his puppy-dog-eyed smiles which always left me breathless and dizzy. I'd passed Sam's Hunter training back when we'd first met. Right now he was just putting me through this so that they could have some excuse to leave me behind on hunts.

"You know… we _just_ got back from a hunt not three days ago, Dean." When Dean's being stubborn, it doesn't take much to make him change his mind… for me. I walked over to him and patted his back. Leaning in, I announced conspiratorially, "I could just not save your ass the next time you charge into the situation half-assed."

"And I could just shoot you the next time Sam isn't looking." He responded, shrugging away from my hand.

Sam's amused chuckle drew my gaze away from Dean's livid glare. "Entering the situation half-assed? That's the Dean way. I've been trying to tell him differently for years. I swear, it's worse than trying to talk to a brick wall." Sam glanced at his brother. "At least the wall can't move."

"Oh, that's cute, Sam." Dean's expression was a mix of betrayal and stubbornness as he took a step back. "Next time we're on a hunt I could just, you know, not move and maybe if you're lucky, the thing we're hunting will run right into my knife.

"Maybe I'll just forget to save your life next time, just a thought..." Dean muttered harshly, grabbing a few of his guns and handling them with irrational anger. Like a child throwing a tantrum.

The loud ringing from my pocket stopped what would have been a long and annoying argument between Sam and Dean, and I gratefully pulled the phone from my pocket and snapped it open. I didn't even have to read the name to know that it was Aliese.

"_Did you pass?_" Aliese's excited voice cracked over that speaker, not even caring to say the usual customary 'hello.' I didn't have to ask to know what she was asking about; Hunter Training School.

Laughing sarcastically, I replied, "You know I did. I'm actually surprised you're still alive, what with Bobby training you and all."

Aliese's laugh echoed over the phone and I smiled in response, pleased to hear that at least Bobby's extreme training hadn't broken her spirits, even if it had probably broken a few of her bones. "_Yeah, Bobby's breaking my ass, but you know what? I got him back when we got to shooting._"

"You get bulls eyes on all of 'em?" I asked proudly, walking in a circle. I hate standing in one place while talking on the phone. It makes me feel awkward to stand in place and stare at nothing.

"_No... I shot him._"

"You shot Bobby." The confusion that swept through me hardly let me process her words. I stood there like an idiot and tilted my head. "You... shot Bobby?"

My pause must have signalled her to my alarm. "_No! I didn't _seriously_ shoot him. It was just an air rifle. Practice. He says he doesn't trust me with a gun after seeing you shoot._"

"What, does he think I'm a trigger happy sadist or something?" I snickered, motioning to Sam to give a minute when he tried to get my attention.

Aliese's silence caused my snickering to cut short. "Seriously? Bobby thinks I shoot things for fun?"

"_Well… you do, sometimes, you know. And, you have to admit, you _are_ a little trigger happy…_" Aliese reasoned.

"Yeah, yeah," I intoned sharply, cutting her response off. "Anyway… Now, whatdya got?

Aliese sighed and I could imagine her shaking her head. "_Well, I think I have a job for you guys._"

"Oooh! I love fieldtrips." I announced, giggling hyperishly. Sam raised an eyebrow in question; I winked conspiratorially. "Something new? Freakishly terrifying? You know Dean'll never let us take it unless he gets to kill, maim and or seriously harm something."_ And they call me the sadistic one...?_ I glanced up to see Sam and Dean whispering heatedly; Dean seemed to be winning. I cocked my head to the side in confusion. Oh well, if Sam thought I should know, he'd tell me sooner or later.

"_Well, I'm not exactly sure. Actually, one of your old contacts called your old cell. I gave her your new number but she said she had something to take care of before she called. Just wanted to give you a heads up in case you guys were in the middle of training or something and needed to get going._"

"Yeah, well we just finished so we've just gotta clean up and head back to the motel." I started walking to the targets, grabbing everything of ours that we couldn't afford to leave behind. Sam and Dean quickly followed my lead. "This old contact of mine, did you get his name?"

"_Not his, her. Said her name was Claire, and that you guys hunted a poltergeist over in Montana a few years back._"

_Claire…?_ "You mean Klaire Daniels? It's Klaire with a K." I hadn't spoken to Klaire in almost a year. She'd been my insight into hunting life until she got screwed over on one of her cases and got sent to prisoner for a few weeks before she escaped. Klaire was one of the only contacts of mine that I'd ever met in person. All my other contacts had been strictly over the phone or email; and none of them knew who I actually was. Probably a good thing too, considering.

"_Uh, I guess. Yeah, Klaire D with a K. The only Klaire in your phone contacts._" Aliese answered distractedly.

"Alright, well thanks for the heads up, Aliese. I might be tempted to visit you in Bobby Boot Camp," I replied, swinging into the back seat of the Impala. I flinched as my bare legs touched the heated leather seats, almost smacking myself for wearing shorts today. "I love you, Allie."

"_And I have grown fond of you, Courtney._"

"Jackass."

"_Idiot._" A short chuckle emitted before the line went dead. I snapped the phone shut and turned my attention to my unusually silent passengers as Dean started up the car.

"Aliese says there might be a case for us, I'm just waiting for a call from an old friend." I announced when the unyielding silence became too much. It was one of those awkward silences that happen after a fight that you weren't privy to know the details of. One of _those_ kinds of silences. "Hey. You guys want to come down from your alien nerd spaceship? I said we might have a case here. What's goin' on?"

"Nothing," they both answered instantly; my suspicions rose. I was sure something was going on; like 90% sure. But I knew that if it was important, I shouldn't need to push it. It was one of the things that meant I didn't have very many good friendships. Unless it was extremely important, I felt no need to share personal problems. I didn't rely on needing to know everything about a person. It was just important for me to have honesty in return.

"Okay then…" I replied, lifting both hands in defence. Fortunately for me, I wasn't forced to endure the awkwardness as at that minute, my phone went off again, and my attention turned from the rolling highway road to the crackling voice on the other end. "Hello?"

"_Hello…? Courtney…? Are… there?_" The distinct digital hiss snapped at me over the signal, going in and out of range. The voice to me though was unmistakable.

"Klaire? Klaire, where are you?" Suddenly, all attention was on me (except for, of course, Dean's gaze which was strictly focused on the road. Hopefully).

"_Courtney? Did… get my message?_" There was a pause in which I thought the line had dropped before Klaire replied. "_Wait. Okay, can you hear me better now? Sorry about that. I forgot that I've got iron armouring my car._"

"Uh... okay then. Yeah, hey Klaire, Aliese called me already, said you might have a job for us?" I questioned, staring at the worn leather seating. I always felt awkward talking on the phone in front of people. I hated to think they might be listening in on my conversations.

"_Um, yeah. So here's the thing..._"

"I really don't like this." Sam declared forlornly, staring at the map splayed out across the table. I didn't get it until Dean's face flushed pale and his knuckles turned white over his grip on the chairs' back

"What do you mean?" I enquired as I walked over to the table and stared at the map. The dot on the map was so small I had to lean in to read the name. "What's so wrong with this place? It's just an abandoned ghost town." Wrinkling my brow, I leaned over the table, tracing the lines across the page with my fingers, trying to chart the destination in my head.

"Oh yeah, abandoned ghost town in the middle of nowhere. Sound familiar, Sammy?" Dean muttered, the knowing look they exchanged contained more meaning than I could comprehend.

Sam sighed and rubbed his weary green eyes with the heels of his palms. "Remember when I was explaining to you about yellow eyes?"

Azazel. One of the many things that Sam and Dean had explained to me in the almost month since I'd joined up with them. "Yeah," I said slowly, wondering what this had to do with anything. "He should be _so_ glad that he's dead already." I started pacing shortly along the width of the room, dodging between the two double beds and table.

"Whatever you're thinking, Dean probably already did it," Sam announced lightly in total seriousness, causing me to glower at nothing in particular. I could think of just a few things I'd like to do to that yellow eyed bastard. And women are more creative. And vindictive.

Shaking my head, I motioned Sam to continue on with the explanation. I may have been a lot of things; trigger happy, sadistic, stubborn... but patience was never one of my good points; it just so happened that neither was letting go of a grudge.

"Anyway, YED. Remember the part about the psychic kids? How yellow eyes brought them all together at the psychic camp?" I nodded wearily, glancing up uneasily at Sam's face. "It's only about forty miles from where your contact is sending us."

My face pinched anxiously as Sam pointed out the location of the psychic camp on the map.

_Way too close to be a coincidence_ was basically what they were trying to tell me.

"Which is why we are so definitely not going," Dean emphasized his point by pulling out the chair and sitting down, trying to convey his sincerity through his stubborn gaze. I averted my gaze.

"Klaire said there have been disappearances and a possible demon sighting. They found a girl whose been missing for seven months. We can't just ignore that." I persisted fiercely, trying to reason with Sam and Dean's uncertain expressions. I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, staring at Sam unwaveringly. He returned my gaze boldly, but it was filled with uncertain regret.

_We're not going,_ is essentially what both of their expressions told me in short. I knew how to sway Dean's decision—just point an unloaded gun at him, let his mind do the rest. Or food—but Sam? Sam was almost as stubborn as me.

"Why?" I asked persuasively, glancing back and forth from both their faces. "Why can't we go? Azazel's dead, your psychic mind powers are basically gone; what's there to worry about?"

"You still have yours." Sam whispered, and I didn't have to ask what I still had. My visions. My dreams and nightmares.

Something in Dean's look changed and he looked at Sam beseechingly. "We could just go check it out, Sammy. Just to make sure..."

Dean definitely can't do puppy-dog-eyes, but one look at me and he rolled his eyes. "Great," he muttered almost inaudibly. "I've got a suicidal brother and a trigger happy girlfriend."

_Why does everyone think I'm trigger happy...?_

The flickering flame in my stomach grew; it was good to know I'd finally gained 'girlfriend' status, even if I wasn't sure I was worthy of it.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, getting up and folding the map after marking the location with a black sharpie. "So this Klaire," Sam began tentatively after a moment of silence, glancing at me. Dean got up and grabbed his duffle bag, sitting on the edge of the bed. As Dean began work of cleaning and checking the guns, Sam coughed to get my attention. "You ever worked a hunt with her before?"

"Uh, yeah, once," I said distractedly, my mind solely focused on trying to figure out any personality traits I might have to answer my earlier unasked question. _Would my childlike wonder cause me to be trigger happy...?_ I shook my head and gave Sam an unclear answer. "In Montana about sixteen months ago. We were hunting a poltergeist; pretty nasty one too, killed the families' three cats and everything."

The look Sam and Dean shared caused a morbid smile to light up my face. "Yes," I answered their bewildered expressions. "Yes, it killed cats."

"Okay then..." Dean's expression perfectly conveyed the definition of '_crazy_'.

"And Klaire; she a good Hunter?" Sam wondered with a raised eyebrow.

I nodded confidently. "One of the best. Although... she doesn't necessarily like taking credit for her work."

"What'd you mean?" Sam asked in sincere curiosity, sitting down on the chair in front of me.

"What I mean is that when she does a job, she never tells anybody about it. She meets another Hunter; she pretends she has no clue what the hell a ghost is. I don't imagine many other Hunters have even heard of her, but she could rival a lot of those Hunters on a bad day." I explained absently, plucking at the threads of the motel beds comforter.

After a short pause, Dean proclaimed, "Makes you wonder, don't it? How many Hunters there actually are in the world?"

Dean's statement caused an invisible shudder to slide down my spine. I kept the fear from my eyes and laughed falsely. "Scary thought..."

Dean's response was directed at no one in particular, "Scarier to think how many of them would be hunting you if they knew about your psychic stuff." '_Your_' meaning Sam, Aliese _and_ my abilities.

Sam shot a livid glare at Dean and Dean returned it with an almost bewildered expression.

I couldn't think of any response that would have restarted my suddenly beat-less heart. That thought was so much more troubling to me than some of the worst hunts I could imagine.

_God Dean, you always have to make things worse, don't you?_

"Well," I intoned into the empty silence after I'd glanced at my watch and noticed it was almost midnight. I grabbed my toiletries bag and made my way to the bathroom. "I'm getting ready for bed. Klaire said she'd meet us around eight, so get some sleep, boys." I gave the most encouraging smile I could muster and closed the door behind me, locking it promptly. I saw Sam's wary glance just before the door shut completely; something about the way he looked at me... it caused a spark of fear to ignite deep in my mind. Not fear of Sam; fear and worry of what he was thinking about as he looked at me. Almost as if he was trying to memorize my face.

Something about that thought... it didn't sit well with me.

I stared at my reflection in the antique tarnished and cracked mirror hanging above an equally ancient sink. My carefully moulded smile of confidence faded immediately, replaced by pain-filled black ringed emerald eyes, burning with green Hell-fire.

"You're a god damn hypocrite, you know that?" I whispered to my reflection in disgust, sighing wearily as I pulled my shirt over my head. Lifting my left arm higher than my shoulder caused a shot of pain to course through my arm; I dropped it quickly to my side. I stared back at the reflection of the broken doll in the mirror. Scars running along pale, porcelain flesh. Deep gouges that had spilt so much blood that the skin seemed to have been permanently stained red.

"_He'll always be in danger, as long as he's around you."_ Ruby's taunt had been echoing through my head for the past few weeks, a never ending loop that caused the worry to course through me and lodge in my throat, think and bitter.

I shook my head and turned away from the mockingly confident girl in the reflection. Changing within two minutes, I threw on my Pjs and washed my face, clawing my hair back into a quick ponytail. The process took no more than ten minutes. Opening the door, I emerged into the dimly lit narrow room and was surprised to see only Dean sitting guard by the front door, obsessively cleaning his shotguns and rifles.

"Where's Sam?" I asked, putting my things back in my duffle bag and flopping down on my bed, the one closest to the window; Dean has a phobia of sleeping close to windows.

Dean's hand stopped its obsessive cleaning motions and he glanced up at me, too tired to try and think up a smart ass response. "He went to pick up some supplies for tomorrow." After glancing at my drained face, he asked, "You okay?"

Nodding my head absently, I joined Dean near the doorway and picked up a rifle, beginning to take it apart. The silence that we fell into was so different than any other time I'd been alone with Dean; instead of the type of silence that radiates _I'm going to kill you_, it was one that exuded a feeling that said, _I understand_. I guess I needed that understanding, as hard as I tried to act so independent and fearless. I could find understanding in Sam, both being Hunters, both being there when our parents were killed, both trying to act like we were the ones healing even when we were the last ones to let go.

It just seemed that with Sam, I didn't want him to understand what it felt like to know that I was a danger to everyone around me. Someone who didn't understand and stayed with me anyway; by choice.

Dean and I shared one thing that Sam and I never could. We were both older siblings responsible for keeping our younger siblings safe. It was the only aspect of our personality that we could bond over that didn't involve me bribing Dean with food.

My gaze was so focused on the opposite wall that I swear, I started seeing things moving in the walls. I blinked rapidly and glanced at my silent companion, trying to convince myself that I was still completely sane. But when my eyes met his, it wasn't because he was checking to see if I was okay. For the first time since Dean had found out who I was, his gaze was filled with curious concern.

"Have you told Sam about the nightmares?"

The question was asked with vague indifference, Dean's gaze purposefully fixed on cleaning the shotgun. Despite Dean's facade, I knew the question was asked in complete sincerity.

My composure was much less cool than Dean's and I nearly dropped the gun I was holding. I hadn't even known that _he_ knew about my nightmares. I subtly took a deep breath and went back to the weapon in my hand. My ultimate survival instinct. Stupidity. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Dean snorted and laid the gun down, trying to hold my gaze. "Come on, Courtney. You haven't slept in days. Sam may not notice, but you're not the only one who doesn't want to fall asleep at night,"

I lowered my face behind a veil of hair, trying to keep him from seeing the fear in my eyes. "They're... it's not the nightmares."

"What?"

I turned to Dean's miffed expression and sighed outwardly. "The nightmares don't bother me; I've had them for years. Sure, I didn't _know_ I had nightmares; I only started remembering them about a year ago. But they're not the problem."

"Then what's the problem?" He asked casually.

I turned away from Dean's enquiring gaze. He really needed to learn to mind his own business. Sure, he was Sam's brother. Sure, I'd grown a grudging fondness of him over the past month, but ever since what happened with Aliese… Did Dean know what it was like to get the people you loved the most almost killed every time there was trouble? Sam could take care of himself. I hadn't taught Aliese too. She could be one of the first to go.

And something worse than a hundred ragging ghosts was coming our way.

The only thing I could do until then was save everyone I could find. Hunt every living and undead creature that needed to be hunted. And that meant getting Aliese trained and taking up Klaire's hunt, no matter what Sam or Dean warned me about.

_Rashka's breath invaded in my personal bubble and I turned my face away, feeling the trickle of tiny legs of disgust running down my spine. "The apocalypse is coming, freak. You've seen it, haven't you? And she's going to make sure the first thing you see is Sammy carving up your little sister." Sitting there, staring at my best friend, my little sister, who was literally bleeding out in front of me… "He'd do it too; Sammy. He'd do it to save you."_

"_You cruel, worthless bitch," I choked back harshly. "I'll kill you slowly. And enjoy it."_

"_I'm counting on it."_


End file.
